


Falling

by ObliObla



Series: Lucifer Songfics [9]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Prompt Fill, Season/Series 04, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22296187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla
Summary: This bed is far too large without anyone else in it.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Eve/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Series: Lucifer Songfics [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1137194
Comments: 16
Kudos: 76





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [redledgers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers) for the beta help!
> 
> This fic is for [amoosewithflannelforfur](https://amoosewithflannelforfur.tumblr.com/) on tumblr who requested a songfic based on _Falling_ by Harry Styles. I hope you like it!
> 
> I'm in my bed, and you're not here  
> And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands  
> Forget what I said, it's not what I meant  
> And I can't take it back, I can't unpack the baggage you left
> 
> You said you care, and you missed me too  
> And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you  
> And the coffee's out at the Beachwood Cafe  
> And it kills me 'cause I know we've ran out of things we can say
> 
> What am I now? What am I now?  
> What if I'm someone I don't want around?  
> I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling  
> What if I'm down? What if I'm out?  
> What if I'm someone you won't talk about?  
> I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling
> 
> And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again
> 
> What am I now? What am I now?  
> What if you're someone I just want around?  
> I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling  
> What if I'm down? What if I'm out?  
> What if I'm someone you won't talk about?  
> I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling
> 
> -Harry Styles-

This bed is far too large without anyone else in it.

Lucifer fluffs the pillow almost violently and buries his face deeper into it. In the distance, he can hear Eve humming something—an old work song from Eden, or maybe it’s just some EDM drop Lux is especially fond of. She bustles about near the bar before taking the stone steps to his bedroom barefoot, but he keeps his breathing even, his eyes closed. She hesitates for a moment—he can hear her disappointed exhalation—before she walks away, skirt swishing with a whisper of fabric, still humming. He is sorry for the deception, and he isn’t.

He searches for sleep, but it eludes him.

The stink of stale whiskey is on his tongue, and it’s more familiar than anything, but something in it makes nausea rise, a somewhat unusual sensation that sets his mind adrift. A vision of hair far more golden than the black that customarily graces his pillows slips through his neurons, followed by a flash of eyes more of ocean than of earth. Of lips that never touched an apple in some garden called paradise. Of a voice filled with recriminations and encouragement alike, both far more tender than all this easy acceptance.

But acceptance had tasted so sweet.

His fingers itch, now, with desire, but not for the myriad things Eve would gladly give. And how ungrateful a devil could he be that he wants nothing more than to reject all her comforts in favor of an uncertain cold? And yet he knows how deep that chill ran, how much colder it must be after all that he’s…

He hisses in a breath, then freezes, listening intently. Eve’s humming has turned to singing, something wordless and filled with an emotion he doesn’t entirely understand, and he wonders, not for the first time, if they are both settling for something less than they desire. But she does not pause or break off, and he knows she didn’t hear. She never does.

If he shifts sideways on the sheets, he can see where she’s picking up the detritus of last night’s—week’s—orgy. He’s told her there’s no need, but she said she ‘likes to feel useful.’ Such an ordinary phrase entrenched in so much poison. But it makes her happy, if anything does. And her happiness is all that he desires. Certainly in the garden no one ever cared. And certainly in Heaven, no one had ever…

No, all there ever was in Heaven was light so bright no shadows were allowed to dwell. And all there was in Eden were fig leaves to cover up a nakedness called shameful. And all there is here…?

He slips his arm over his back to tug the blanket over his head, hiding from all the things he doesn’t know how to accept. He finds sleep, perhaps, and the next thing he’s aware of is the smoky bitterness of coffee teasing his nostrils. And again, he sees golden hair, sometimes dulled by time and too many stakeouts, but never tarnished. Again, he hears that voice, admonishing but kind. But the easy banter between him and the detective is long since dead and buried. He is merely useful to her now.

But her happiness isn’t all that he desires.

He will have to get up soon. This pretense of slumber is wearing more and more thin with every thwack of Eve’s spoon against her cup as she stirs in sugar, no cream, no caramel. She knows his hearing is too keen and his sleep too light these days for quite that level of noise. That this is some sort of lie. But he’s no liar, right? Though he _has_ been falling asleep at inopportune moments, lately, hasn’t he? Even in Hell he doesn’t remember feeling quite this weary.

But for the moment he has left before his duties call too loudly to ignore, he presses his lips to Egyptian cotton and tries to feel what he knows he ought to. Everything he ever wanted is waiting for him—acceptance, joy, _love—_ but it’s nothing but ashes in his mouth. And isn’t that his lot? To always strive for more than he’s been allowed? But this is _wrong,_ and he doesn’t know why. Or maybe he does know, but that thought is far too dangerous.

“Lucifer,” Eve calls in a sing-song voice, the frisson of her anxieties only barely audible, “breakfast!”

Bile rises, but he quashes it. This is what he wants. This is what he’s always wanted, since the moment he stood on Eden’s soft earth and saw a creature utterly unlike him, but filled with the kindling of sentience, if only someone was willing to stoke it _._ When the sky was blue with storms that hadn’t yet come and a younger sun cast its gold on dark hair and downcast eyes. When, for the first time in such a long time, he felt wanted. Desired. But desire isn’t enough anymore.

He casts away the blanket, smiles with all the beatitude of the angel he will never be again, and leaves his bed behind for a day with a tired sky and an even wearier sun.

**Author's Note:**

> Throw me an ask or fic request on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/obliobla) if you like!


End file.
